


Let Me In

by highwhorelock



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 05:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6891679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highwhorelock/pseuds/highwhorelock





	Let Me In

“Hey, doll, I got you some—“

Bucky never got to finish. Following the music to your room, he twisted the knob with his right hand and opened the door only to see you slicing deeper on your thigh. You settled on that area since there was no more room on your cut arms anymore.

The two of you froze, eyes locked on each other; his filled with worry and sorrow, yours only a blank stare. The realization hit you at the thought of your friend seeing you like this. Weak and vulnerable. A total mess. A tear slid down your cheek as you lowered your gaze, the rest threatening to spill but you wouldn’t let Bucky see that. Aside from your depression, anxiety was another thing gnawing on your gut. What would he think of you if he saw you like a bawling mess? He’d probably be disgusted of how weak you are.

The chocolates Bucky bought fell on the floor as he closed the door, immediately walking over to you. “______... please let me—“ He reached out to your arms but you flinched back, blood dripping from the thin and deep cuts covering your arms and thigh. Bucky froze as your low voice reached his ears. “Leave it.”

The both of you sat on the ground, tension heavy in the air. Bucky stared at the blood pooling beneath you, jaw clenching. He had seen his fair share but he never wanted to see any spilt from you. His eyes stared at the blade with its edge crusted with your blood and he pondered on how he could miss such a thing. Now taking in the small details, he noticed the faint scars over the cuts and even your other thigh was covered with pink scars. “Why are you still here?” You whispered, the stinging pain clawing on you. “We need to bandage that, ______.”

“No, seriously, why are you here? Go. Just pretend that you didn’t see anything, just… go.” The last word faded and you clenched your jaw, finding yourself sounding all whiny. You should shut up now. “______, no, I can’t do that.” Bucky couldn’t focus much with you losing blood and worry bubbling up in his chest. “Please.” He pleaded, holding your hand with both his metal and flesh one.

You said nothing nor pull away so he took it as a sign to help you up and lead you to the bathroom. He noticed the tears rolling on your cheeks and how your eyes were bloodshot and filled with still bottled up emotions. The sight tore at his heart, you were still trying hard to keep your guard up. He settled you down the tub and Bucky made sure the water was warm enough for you. You stared as blood swirled with the water and down the drain, fascinated by the motion. The sting grew as the water dragged along some of the dried blood and releasing thin streams once more. 

You felt Bucky’s metal hand stroke your hair and you turned your head slightly, peering at him. “It’s alright… I’m right here.” He mumbled and a voice nagged at the back of your head. Not for long. You let him continue to clean up your wounds, wrapping them in bandages. Soon the both of you were on your bed with you leaning on the wall and him at the foot of your bed. Bucky didn’t leave nor did he talk, somehow you were thankful for both. You didn’t trust your own words. Your voice might crack and you’d end up crying.

“How long?” He asked after a long silence.

You merely shrugged. “I can’t remember.”

“Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.”

Another round of deafening silence. Bucky was staring out the window where rain was pouring endlessly as if the sky wept for the both of you. “You’re beautiful, you know that.” He muttered, rather absent-mindedly yet he meant it. He was startled by the small and heartless chuckle you gave, making him turn his gaze to you. “But?”

His brows furrowed in confusion, remaining silent. “But what, Buck? ‘But you dress like a guy too much?’ ‘But you’re weird?’ ‘But you’re fat?’ Which one is it?”  
He stared at you, watching you say those horrible things about yourself. Why were you being so hard on yourself? Can’t you see yourself the way he does? He realized that this must have been because of other people and he felt a sickening churn in his stomach at how these low lives even managed to sleep at night. “You’re beautiful.” He repeated, firmly and sincerely, hoping that you would catch his eye and get a glimpse of how you meant a lot to him. You never did.

Bucky looked down, chewing on his lip. “You didn’t talk to me about it.” It was a statement as much as it was a question. You stared at your bandages, contemplating to answer. “I didn’t want to bother you.” He stared at you, almost hurt by what you said. “I’m your friend, ______.” The word friend felt wrong in his mouth. “Of course you can talk to me about these things. That’s what I’m for.” His tone was gentle as he inched closer, fingers curling in his palm. “You don’t have to keep this stuff to yourself.”

“That’s what you’re for? You’re a damn super soldier, James! Not a human diary, I’m not supposed to cry to you every fucking night. You have better things to do.” You hissed tears stinging in your eyes at your own words. Your anxiety was just as bad as your depression. Both were consuming you until you were too gone, too broken for anyone to able to understand you.

“Let me in.” The soft whisper was enough to break the crumbling walls you were desperately trying to put up. Your sobs were silent, a soft cry of Bucky’s name followed by a suck of breath, voice trembling. Tears continued to roll down and you felt strong arms around you, your back meeting a firm chest. His lips were pressed on your shoulder as he whispered soft encouragements to your ear, sometimes saying Russian endearments.

Your sobs quieted down after a while and you slipped back into a numbing feeling. Bucky grew worried. He didn’t want to lose you to this. “______, you need to take some rest.”

“Do you have any idea what it feels like having depression and anxiety at the same time?”

He shook his head and pressed another kiss on your shoulder. “Tell me.” You needed this. You need to talk and lift these off your chest and he was glad to listen. “It’s like the weirdest shit ever. You wanna talk to people because you can’t handle it anymore but then you think you’re not worth their time, that they have actual important things to do than listen to your trash. So, you just sit there, keep things to yourself for a long time until it’s all too much…” You trailed off and let out a quiet sigh. “You feel numb or you’re in too much pain. It’s either you need to feel or you have to feel another sort of pain to distract you for a while.”

You glanced up at him before tearing your gaze away. “I’m sorry you had to listen to that.”

The soldier tightened his flesh arm around you, closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath. “I need you, ______. I need you to fight this for me. I don’t want to lose you.” He said, voice cracking. “Don’t make me cry, doll. It’s not a pleasant sight.” 

His radiating warmth lulled you close to sleep. His words broke your heart. No, you didn’t want to hurt him. Maybe, just maybe, there’s finally someone you were afraid to leave behind. “Oh, Buck…” You mumbled before slipping into a state of unconsciousness. Bucky watched as you slept, a sense of relief flooding him at the look of your calm face. He placed a kiss on your wet cheek and sighed. “I’m with you every step, doll.”

You woke up hours later, it was a crack of dawn. You broke into a cold sweat and sat up carefully. You stared down at your bandages and bit on your lip, remembering last night. Your eyes stung from the crying and your body ached. You glanced at the floor, seeing the pool of blood gone and the trail that lead to your bathroom as if last night didn’t happen. Your (e/c) eyes flickered to the space next to you and saw the ruffled sheets and the lack of James Buchanan Barnes that was supposed to be there. This made you frown and sighed. Maybe he was called on a mission. 

When he stepped out from your small kitchen with two cups of coffee and his hair tied up in man-bun like how you liked it, you couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight. Seeing this, he smiled as well and walked over to you, handing you the other mug. “Morning, doll.”

You hummed in response and took the mug, taking a careful sip. He slipped a small note under your fingertips and you peeked at it from the rim of your mug. His own scrawl was on the blue note. You read the words “Pizza with me?”

“You asking me out?” You joked. He sat next to you and shrugged, pressing a kiss to your cheek. That made a blush creep on your cheeks and you momentarily spaced out. He smiled, pleased with your reaction and pressed another kiss there, clearly enjoying himself. “Pepperoni and don’t forget the Coke.”

Bucky chuckled with a nod before tossing you the pack of Hershey’s he was meant to give you last night before sitting next to you, enjoying his coffee.


End file.
